


Look Me in the Eyes

by lily8007



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, F/F, Femslash, Talina - Freeform, demoncat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-05-19 13:14:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19357741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lily8007/pseuds/lily8007
Summary: The Demon and the Cat should be rivals, fighting for Batman's affection.  But these two women have found a better way of dealing with the situation, and keeping Bruce on his toes.  Selina and Talia discover that they suit each other very well, after all.This is a collection of related ficlets for theFemslash Ficlets Janelle Monae lyrics prompt table challenge.  Each chapter is a separate prompt.I'm using this work to further develop the relationship between Talia and Selina.  The first five chapters of my ficCaught the Cat's Eyecan be taken as canon for how these two met, and ended up in bed together.Note: Chapters may be posted out of chronological order, as I work my way through the prompts.  I apologize for any confusion.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt, "So dress me up, I’ll like it better if we both pretend"

Selina had come to London to visit Talia, but on arriving that afternoon she found that Talia wasn’t home.  Old habits took over, and Selina cased the place. She found  _ way _ more weapons than she would’ve guessed, even knowing that Talia always went armed.  She also found lots of books, some very fine art, plenty of very tempting jewelry … and an amazing array of clothes.  Casual workout stuff, tank tops and leggings. Business suits tailored to be as enticing as they were intimidating. And a whole walk-in closet full of designer gowns, in rich shades that made Selina purr enviously as she ran her hand over the fabrics.

She felt the air patterns in the room change, and whirled around to see Talia in the doorway, arms crossed, watching her with a raised eyebrow.  Selina smiled at her. “You’re quite the clothes-horse.”

“Clothing is armor,” Talia said, approaching her.  She edged past Selina to one side of the closet, slid the dresses aside, and pressed two spots on the wall.  With a click, the side panel recessed into the wall, revealing a hidden space. Talia grinned, and added, “Sometimes literally.”

Selina gave a low whistle.  Her own catsuit was high-tech, designed and refined for her work, and she’d noticed Talia glancing at its sleek black curves as she walked in.  What was concealed behind the false panel was a bodysuit a little like her own, overlaid with heavier armor. Still light enough to move and fight in, but it looked like it gave good protection against bullets and direct blows.  “That’s very nice,” Selina said, running a hand over the armored bodice.  

“I do not often have occasion to wear it,” Talia said ruefully.  “The gowns, however, see more use, and serve as figurative armor.  There is nothing quite like the feeling of striding into a gala, knowing you are the most beautiful sight to behold.”

“Amen to that,” Selina replied, turning to look at her.  A mischievous smile played over her lips. “I hear there’s a big event tonight, someone in Parliament whose name I can’t remember.  It’s just an excuse for the rich and arrogant to see and be seen.”

Talia crossed her arms, and smiled.  “And why are you interested? Other than the array of fine jewelry to be pilfered?”

“That’s just a sideline,” Selina said dismissively.  “I didn’t actually plan on going, but seeing your collection of designer dresses gives me ideas.”

“Ideas?”  Talia arched an elegant brow, but amusement brightened her eyes.

Selina stepped closer, and ran her fingers down Talia’s arm.  “Let’s get dressed up and crash Lord Something-or-other’s annual garden party.  I bet we can get in, even without being on the guest list. We’ll be the mysterious strangers everyone else wonders about.  It’ll be fun.”  

Talia seemed inclined to humor her.  “And I suppose you intend to wear something of mine, unless you have a garment bag stashed somewhere?  Catwoman would certainly cause a stir, but I doubt you’re interested in making that kind of an entrance.”

“Oh, you got me,” Selina chuckled.  “It’s absolutely an excuse to borrow your clothes.”  They were about the same size, she estimated, though Talia was a little taller.

She smiled indulgently.  “Then pick out something you like.”

Selina smirked, and spoke in cajoling tones.  “I have to try it on, first. That’s half the fun, don’t you know?”

 

…

 

By the fifth gown, Talia was sitting at the vanity, watching in bemusement as Selina posed in front of the full-length mirrors.  She turned to make the skirt swirl, then stared intently at her own reflection. “No,” Selina finally said, with some regret. “Fuchsia’s just not my color.  I don’t have the undertones for it. I bet you look stunning in this, though.”

“I look stunning in everything,” Talia replied, sipping wine.  She’d opened the bottle when it became clear that Selina meant to try on as many dresses as possible.  They had plenty of time to make the garden party - if that was even Selina’s goal. Perhaps she simply wanted to play dress-up, and to be honest, Talia loved her delighted expression as she did so.  Admittedly, watching her dress and undress was no hardship, either. Selina was a beautiful and graceful woman.

“You look stunning  _ out _ of everything, too,” the Cat flirted, and slipped out of the fuchsia gown, carefully replacing it on its hanger.  In just her bra and panties she stood in Talia’s closet, examining dresses thoughtfully.  

And glancing at the now-closed secret panel.

Talia sighed, and polished off the wine.  “I’ll let you try it on, but you are  _ not _ to go gallivanting around London dressed as me, do you understand?”

Selina laughed.  “Oh come on, where’s your sense of humor?”

“Humor is more your purview than mine,” Talia replied.

And then Selina turned to her with a devilish gleam in her eye.  “So pretend to be me for a while. It’s much more fun, I promise.  You can even wear the catsuit.”

Perhaps it was the wine, but Talia found herself grinning as she stood up and strolled over to her.  “I’ll take you up on that, kitten.”

“See, it’s working already,” Selina laughed, and stepped into her arms for a kiss.  

One kiss was never enough, and Talia’s hands framed her body appreciatively, while Selina played with her hair.  Eventually Selina nipped at her lower lip, and drew back. “C’mon, I wanna see how you look in it first.  _ Then _ I’ll have fun getting you out of it.”

 

…

 

The following morning, Bruce Wayne’s cell phone chirped with a message.  He opened one bleary eye, saw the sender was Selina, and sat up. No message, actually, just a photograph.

He stared, then managed a smile.  It was a selfie, Selina grinning while she brandished Talia’s sword.  And Talia was holding the phone up, smirking from beneath Selina’s cat-eared mask.  With her free hand, Selina was tugging down the zip closure of her catsuit - which Talia happened to be wearing at the moment, just as Selina wore  _ her _ armor.  


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "She’ll have you falling harder than a Sunday in September"

Selina hit the ground, hard, her legs knocked out from under her.  All of her instinct and training tried to drive her to her feet again, turning with the fall even as she landed.  Graceful as her namesake, she could rise and take her attacker by surprise…

Except her motion was arrested by the blade at her throat.  Selina froze, and looked up the length of the wooden practice blade, a graceful sweeping line through Talia’s wrist, to her shoulder, to the assassin’s smile.  “You _are_ a quick study,” Talia said, with pride - in both her own victory, and Selina’s progress.

“And you’re a hard teacher,” she replied.  “This is _not_ my style.  Besides, what are the odds I’ll end up in a swordfight?  This _is_ the twenty-first century, you know.”

With a sigh, Selina let herself relax, leaning back on her elbows.  The sword followed her, hovering at her throat; that was probably unconscious, Talia too well-trained in the martial arts to forget that Selina hadn’t admitted defeat yet.

At least, she wouldn’t forget _easily_.  Maybe there was an angle here Selina could exploit.

“Considering the people we run with, a swordfight is more likely than you think,” Talia chuckled, and Selina had to grant her the point with a nod.  “As for your style, Cat, it is stealth, and guile, and stealing the initiative wherever you can. A cunning strategy, but you cannot expect matters to _always_ play out as you like.”

“It’s worked okay so far,” Selina said, giving her a slight smile.  The fight went on until surrender - and if she could get Talia waxing poetic on the art of war, she _might_ just be able to grab her own blade and get back in the game.

“And I refuse to be the reason you are caught without backup on the day it fails to work,” Talia told her.  And then, with a little smirk that said yes, she’d seen what Selina was planning, she pressed the tip of the sword beneath Selina’s chin, tilting her face up just slightly.  “Yield, Cat.”

Selina pouted at her, but Talia narrowed her eyes sternly, and at last she sighed.  “Fine, you win. Again.”

Talia clicked her tongue, moving the sword aside.  She stepped in, offering Selina a hand to rise. “Just be glad I don’t insist on sparring with live steel, the way I was taught.  Did you _really_ think I would fall for that?”

Selina took Talia’s hand … and aimed a sweep-kick at the assassin’s ankles, bringing Talia down to the mats with her.  The wooden sword clattered aside, and Talia cursed as Selina swarmed over her, laughing.

Half-playful, half-serious skirmishing with an extremely lethal assassin _also_ wasn’t Selina’s style.  At least up until about a month ago.  Batman’s two most serious love interests had met and immediately struck sparks off each other.  Selina liked the challenge of teasing a sense of whimsical humor from beneath Talia’s regal facade; Talia liked being able to be herself with Selina.  The fact that they were both superlatively beautiful didn’t hurt, either. And it drove Bruce to distraction, knowing they were together. He couldn’t help imagining them plotting against him, always planning for the worst case scenario. Selina hadn’t had the heart to tell him that, after the first night, they barely mentioned him when they were together.

The fight ended in a stalemate, Talia pinned with Selina’s forearm across her throat, but the assassin had one hand free and a dagger pricked Selina’s side.  “You _yielded_ ,” Talia growled, her eyes stormy.

“There’s no honor in the streets, sweetheart,” Selina purred.  “Call it a draw?”

“I call it a lesson in the duplicity of felines,” Talia said archly, but withdrew the knife as Selina released her from the chokehold.

“You could call it a reminder of everything you _will_ fall for,” Selina teased, and bent to kiss her.

This between them was still new enough that every kiss occasioned a gasp of surprise and delight.  This time was no different, Talia completely forgetting to be offended by her unsportsmanlike conduct in favor of burying her hands in Selina’s hair.  She even put down the knife for that.

Selina decided this was the best way to end sword-lessons for the day, and deepened the kiss, melding her body against the assassin’s.  Talia wrapped a leg around Selina’s hip, and she gave a wordless murmur of encouragement.

And then Talia rolled her under, pinning her down immediately, and grinned at her.  “For someone who has clearly used the seduce-your-way-out-of-trouble gambit before, Selina, you’re terribly susceptible to it.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt, "You better know what you’re fighting for."
> 
> This one immediately follows the previous chapter. There'll be more of a time gap in successive chapters.

Selina sighed and rolled her eyes, looking up at the triumphant assassin straddling her waist.  She should’ve known Talia couldn’t let it go. “Do you _always_ have to win?” she asked plaintively.

The playful light in Talia’s eyes dimmed at that.  “Yes,” she said, her voice flat. “For me, it has always been win, or die.  And as likely be resurrected to fight again. I prefer winning.”

Looking up at her, Selina replied in the same serious tone, “You know the worst thing that’ll happen if you lose to me is that I’ll tease you about it for days.  And maybe, I dunno, make you take a spa day with me instead of sparring.”

Talia frowned.  “I know you would not kill me, if I lost.  That isn’t what I fear.”

“Then what _are_ you afraid of?” Selina asked.

At that, she moved off to let Selina up.  They sat side by side on the practice mats, and Talia’s eyes were still troubled.  “You _do_ realize that is a question I am not in the habit of answering?”

“And you know I’m very much in the habit of asking questions,” Selina replied, taking Talia’s hand gently.

When Talia spoke, her tone was bleak.  “I should fear nothing. I am the Daughter of the Demon, the Queen of Assassins, the deadliest woman alive.  I am supposed to be feared, not fearful.”

Selina tilted her head, and looked at her for a moment.  “You wouldn’t be human if you weren’t afraid of _something_ ,” she prodded.

Talia gave a short laugh.  “Oh, I am very human, then.  But what is relevant to _this_ , kitten, is why I insist that you learn to fight as I do.  I must see you trained to my level of swordcraft. And eventually all the other deadly arts I know.”

“I’m not exactly a civilian to start with,” Selina pointed out, not taking offense.  She’d learned already that Talia’s unconscious arrogance had nothing to do with making the assassin seem _better_ than anyone else.  It was just who she was and how she carried herself.

It was also a mask, behind which she hid everything she wasn’t so proud of, and when Talia looked away, Selina knew this was one of those secrets.  

“Everyone I care about has to know how to defend themselves against killers of my caliber,” Talia explained, her voice leaden.  “Sooner or later, everyone I love will be in danger. Because of me. Little as I like assassin’s work, it seems I am fated to bring death with me everywhere I go.”

The way Selina saw it, that was her father’s fault.  Ra’s al Ghul had steeped her in this world of assassins and mercenaries and ruthless double-dealing, beside which the ranks of professional thieves looked positively wholesome.  Saying so wouldn’t do any good, though.

Selina reached out and caught Talia’s chin, gently turning her face to meet her gaze.  “Hey. Most of the people you care about _like_ danger, sweetheart.  Personally, I thrive on it.”

“I cannot bear to lose you,” Talia said in a low, miserable voice.

“As long as I can do anything about it, you won’t,” Selina promised, and leaned in to kiss her.

Talia could kiss like no one else Selina had ever been with.  When she really wanted to, she could make the rest of the world disappear, until the only thing Selina could think about was making love to her.  She was more intoxicating than Ivy, in her own way; she’d made an art of seduction, and even Selina who practiced the same craft got caught up in her spell.  Talia was just that damn good at it.

This time was a lot more tremulous, hesitant, none of her polished and practiced skill.  Only Talia, uncertain of herself and seeking love and reassurance from Selina. Who, frankly, was delighted to give it.

They kissed until they were both breathless, twined together, and Talia snuggled close with her face buried in Selina’s shoulder.  The thief rubbed her back for a while, wordless comfort, and then kissed her hair. “You wanna finish this, beautiful?”

She’d _meant_ the sword practice, but Talia turned and caught her lips in one of those searing kisses.  “Yes, though not here,” she murmured, and Selina could only chuckle.

Considering that she’d wanted to get out of sword lessons for the day, she definitely wasn’t complaining.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt, "These eyes long to make you a perfect work of art."

Talia thought she’d grown accustomed to Selina’s inveterate nosiness, which the Cat called curiosity.  At every opportunity, she found things Talia thought were well hidden; it was positively uncanny. She hadn’t minded Selina perusing her closet in London, or rifling through her briefcase in her Metropolis hotel room.

But Talia drew the line when she walked into her apartment in Paris, and found the Cat stretched out on her bed, surrounded by Talia’s books.  It was merely irksome, considering she hadn’t even given Selina this address, until she realized  _ which _ book Selina was leafing through.

Not the books of poetry, or history, or medicine.  Selina had opened a plain leather-bound volume full of pencil and pen sketches, examining each page with intense fascination.  Talia crossed the room in two strides and snatched it from her hands. “The hell do you think you’re doing?” she snapped. “I did not invite you here, thief.”

Selina blinked at her, and then sat up, green eyes narrowing.  “I came by to surprise you,” she spat, and the dress she wore certainly bore that out, fitting her curves alluringly.  “Why are you being like this?”

“You pry too much,” Talia growled, snapping the book shut.  “Have you never heard that curiosity killed the cat?”

Crossing her arms, Selina said stubbornly, “One, the  _ whole _ saying includes ‘satisfaction brought it back’.  Two, I thought we were past the death-threats part of our relationship.”

Talia just scoffed, gathering the rest of the books and stalking over to the shelf to replace them.  Selina watched her go, and after a moment asked in a different tone, “Who’s the artist?”

Talia paused, the sketchbook in her hands, and then slid it decisively back into place.  “None of your concern.”

“It’s not Damian.  I’ve seen his work, and that’s not quite his style,” Selina continued.  “It’s very good, though.”

Turning back to her, Talia said only, “It’s nothing.  An idle amateur’s fancy.”

Selina’s whole posture changed, like a cat settling in front of a mousehole.  “You know amateur comes from the Latin word for ‘to love’, right? Whoever drew those loved art.  And nature. There’s real talent there, Talia.”

“You are  _ insufferable _ ,” Talia muttered, glaring at her.

“And yet you suffer me anyway,” Selina said blithely.  “That’s your work, isn’t it? Why didn’t you tell anyone you can draw?”

“It was a hobby, nothing more,” Talia replied.  “There was no practical value in it.”

“And what’s the practical value in sleeping with me?” Selina asked archly.

“I’d say stress relief, but you are causing more tension than you alleviate,” Talia said archly.

Selina patted the coverlet in front of her.  “Come here, my grumpy demon.”

Talia resigned herself to a lecture on the value of whimsy, and stalked over to sit beside her.  Except Selina drew her into a kiss, and another, and another, until Talia was quite willing to forget the incident entirely.

Of course, that was when Selina leaned back and met her gaze steadily.  “I’m sorry I went through something you didn’t want me to see,” she said, and somehow the apology made Talia’s chest ache.  Perhaps because she’d received so few of them, compared to the number of offenses against her.  

“You’re forgiven,” Talia murmured.

Selina laid down with her head in Talia’s lap, and looked up at her pleadingly, toying with a lock of her hair.  Oh, she knew  _ precisely _ how charming she was.  “But since I  _ did _ see it, will you show me your sketches?  Because they’re lovely and important to you?”

“There’s nothing important about an old hobby,” Talia protested half-heartedly.

“You wouldn’t be so defensive if it didn’t matter,” Selina pointed out.  “Come on. Pretty please?”

Sighing, Talia got up again and brought the sketchbook over, certain she would never remember most of the drawings, which were more than fifteen years old.  But under Selina’s rapt gaze, more and more of the sketches leapt to life in her mind’s eye: an entire page of flowers that bloomed in wild profusion after the rain, a study of her favorite horse, landscapes of mountains and dunes, portraits of her father.  

Selina sighed with delight at a full page portrait of a sleeping cheetah, long legs stretched out, the tail captured in mid-twitch, every spot delicately rendered.  “One of my father’s hunting cats,” Talia murmured softly. “She was quite tame, considering.”

“She’s beautiful,” Selina whispered.  And then, with a little smile, “So you’ve always been a cat person?”

Talia smiled; there were sketches of other animals, falcons and horses and foxes and salukis, but she flipped through until she found the two-page spread of cats.  Those were gesture drawings, brief sketches meant to capture pose and motion, but their subjects gave them a certain feline elegance. “Perhaps so,” she admitted.

Selina studied them for long moments, and Talia watched her face instead of looking at the drawings.  The solemn intensity of her gaze, the way her cheekbones caught the light, the softness of her lips even in what was almost a frown of concentration.

For the first time in years, Talia’s fingers itched for the weight of a pencil, wanting to capture what her eyes found beautiful.


End file.
